


Breaking News

by SKayLanphear



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, LadyNoir - Freeform, Reveal Fic, Romance, a lot of angst really, adrienette - Freeform, ultimate reveal fic, why do you people enjoy this stuff?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2016-09-29
Packaged: 2018-08-17 09:40:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8139391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SKayLanphear/pseuds/SKayLanphear
Summary: A nasty reporter hunts down Ladybug and Chat Noir until he finds out their identities, before promptly releasing the information to all of Paris. As a result, Marinette and Adrien not only have to deal with knowing one another’s identities, but the rest of the world knowing as well.





	1. Chapter 1

"No, I understand," Chat assured, casting Ladybug a soft smile as he looked her way. He could see the anxiety in her expression, the tension. As if her persistence that they keep their identities a secret would somehow scare him off. "I just… I guess sometimes I'm afraid it's because you don't trust me."

"No, Chat," she whispered, reaching out and laying her gloved hand on his arm. They were sitting above the city, legs hanging over the edge of a roof. So typical for them, even if the conversation was more personal than they usually got. "I trust you completely. You're my… you're my best friend. But…"

"No, you're right, it's more dangerous," he agreed quietly, her words about their friendship warming him considerably despite his depression over their vigilance in staying hidden from one another. "Even with… Hawkmoth in prison, he let all those cursed butterflies loose. If even the wrong person knew, then an akuma could come right for us."

She nodded, her hand slipping from his arm as she glanced down at the street below.

"We've had a lot of close calls though, huh?" he asked, trying to lighten the mood. "I wonder what people would think, if they knew who we really were?"

 

**Chapter 1**

Chat had never wanted to strangle any member of the press as much as he wanted to this particular reporter. And he'd dealt with a _lot_ of paparazzi. But there was the normal amount of harassment and then there was that which bordered on stalking. Usually, when the latter was an issue, it was a simple matter of getting the law or body guards involved.

Ladybug and Chat Noir did not have those luxuries. When particularly persistent reporters got to them, they had to deal with it on their own. Which usually wasn't a problem. With the exception of helicopter reporters—who were able to be outmaneuvered—they could generally just jump up amongst the roofs of the city and they'd be safe.

This particular reporter, however, was a bit different. Like Alya, he liked to be right in the crossfire. The difference was that Alya reported what she saw and then made her deductions based on that. This reporter wasn't in it for the news—he was only there to get the juicy bits of gossip, not the actual report.

The first time Chat had noticed this pattern was when the reporter had cornered them following an akuma. Instead of asking about the attack, he delved right into a subject that, typically, people had the decency to stay away from.

Most questions pertaining to Ladybug and Chat Noir's relationship came to a halt at Ladybug's continued reassurance that they were partners and friends. Chat played it up for laughs, but there was never anything worth gossiping about. They were there to do their job, not become tabloid headlines.

This reporter, however, wasn't content with that simple truth. He kept pushing, which immediately put Chat's radars on high alert. He was well-practiced in dealing with this sort of thing, so the more prodding questions—about whether they knew each other's identities, whether their late night escapades were more than they appeared, etc—he took on when Ladybug was clearly unprepared to do so. He smoothed them out with his typical charm, the two leaping off shortly after.

When the same reporter was present after the next attack, Chat made sure to push Ladybug off without talking to the press at all. It wasn't unheard of that they did so, but she questioned him about it later.

He told her of his discomfort with that particular reporter and was thus able to put her on guard.

It wasn't enough. The reporter kept showing up and asking inappropriate questions, but it was when he got in the way during an akuma fight that Chat started to get a little more than simply annoyed.

Ladybug had spent her energy on a lucky charm, but it hadn't been enough. She'd needed to recharge. So Chat had agreed to distract the akuma while she went about doing what she needed to do. The square had long since been cleared of people, which meant that any trace of movement drew the attention of Chat's enhanced senses. He'd caught sight of the reporter beneath an awning, camera in hand, headed in the same direction Ladybug had gone.

Angry and tired, Chat had taken off after him, forced to leave the akuma in order to protect Ladybug. He wasn't sure how the reporter had known where she was, but it was only because Chat had reached the small sweet shop by a literal step that her identity remained her own. Just as the reporter had been reaching for the door to get inside, Chat had dropped down in front of him and put a stop to it.

Needless to say, Ladybug was surprised when she stepped out a few seconds later.

Though he'd had to refocus on the akuma afterward, Chat had been livid about the whole ordeal. He'd even done some research and found out who the reporter was. He was clearly after their identities—and not in the good-sported fashion Alya was. It hadn't been difficult to find out, not after his trail of other underhanded news stories, and so Chat had paid him a rather threatening visit—without telling Ladybug, of course.

The words he shared with the reporter apparently fell on deaf ears, because he was back during the next akuma fight. And he stayed far too close. Chat knew what he wanted. Eventually one of them would run out of energy and need a recharge mid-fight. It was that moment he was waiting for, willing to put himself in danger to get it.

Chat hadn't felt such rage toward a reporter, well, ever, and his civilian self was a world famous model with a father that had been sent to prison for the actions of Hawkmoth. He'd dealt with his fair share of reporters.

But there was nothing he could do to this reporter, short of _actually_ doing something to him, which seemed to be the best defense the stupid man had. He had an uncanny gift for knowing exactly where they'd go to de-transform for any given location. The following got so bad that Chat and Ladybug didn't feel comfortable being alone to recharge, like they were going to be ambushed. But the akumas didn't heed their needs, thus doing so was an inevitability.

They'd begun taking extra measures. Chat hid camembert around the city roofs, in nooks and crannies. Ladybug did the same with cookies, setting them aside in small areas where no one would see her if she was in her civilian form. While the plan seemed good, it quickly went sour—literally. The food and cookies didn't stay good long enough to be useful, so they were still ducking into stores and shops. And they simply couldn't keep up with restocking the shares all over the city.

It was during these days of deliberation, when they were discussing what else they could do about the reporter without actually _having_ to do anything, that it happened.

The akuma was strong, gave them a lot of trouble, and they'd had to recharge twice each. They'd managed to evade the reporter by going further away then usual, which made the fight even worse to come back to and riskier for the member left behind. They'd used up a third Lucky Charm and Cataclysm by the time the fight was over, both of them exhausted and on the last literal minutes of their transformations. They'd had no choice but to drop into the first public places around, splitting up, but still staying closer than they would have preferred.

Chat was just about to drop down into a hotel when he saw that familiar, sneaking man with the camera. The goddamn reporter. And by the way he was moving, he knew where he was headed. He knew where Ladybug was.

Without much time to spend, Chat had taken off after him, staying to the roofs until they reached a small alley between some apartment buildings. Not the best place to go, but Ladybug had had less time. She probably hadn't had a choice. And if the reporter was as diligent as he seemed, he had footage to prove it was where Ladybug had gone.

If he encountered her there, he'd have her identity. It wouldn't matter if there was proof or not—that knowledge was enough to get the press buzzing.

Which was where they were currently, Chat scowling and wanting to grab the man around the neck as he dropped down in front of him.

The reporter was clearly startled.

"You!" Chat growled, pointing a clawed finger at the persistent piece of trash. "Get out of here!"

Though he'd been initially surprised, the reporter didn't remain that way. He was confident Chat wouldn't hurt him, and knew he really had them cornered now. Because if Ladybug was out of time, if she was stuck in that alley, then there was nowhere to go. And Chat was nearly out of time too—he could either run and save his own identity or…

Or face that camera with her.

"I'm not going anywhere," the reporter assured with a grin, Chat growling as his ears laid back against his head. "You two have been vigilantes long enough. With this story, I'll finally get the promotion I deserve and the respect I've always wanted."

"By exposing the two beloveds of Paris?" Chat hissed out. "Where is the respect in that? We keep our identities hidden for a reason!"

"It doesn't matter how or why I got what I'll know—the story will be too big. So get ready, asscat." He held up the camera. "It's time to say cheese."

Chat was down to seconds. Seconds to get ready for something he knew neither he nor Ladybug were prepared for.

On instinct, he backed up into the alley, if only because he knew Ladybug was there. And as soon as he was on the edge of the shadows, he felt her. She'd reached out her bare hand and laid it on his back. He could feel the tension in her shaky hold, her fear, and as he felt his own transformation fizzling out, he glanced over his shoulder back at her.

Pigtails. Blue eyes.

He was looking down at Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

There was shock in his system, somewhere—because he _knew_ her. She sat behind him in class. Stuttering, clumsy Marinette, who he'd always thought was still sweet and charming in her own way. Marinette was Ladybug. Ladybug was Marinette. And he had only moments to take this in and digest it, because his own mask was fading and they were going to have to fight their first battle together without the safety of anonymity.

"No way…" The reporter was gaping by the time Adrien pulled his snarling glare back up to him. He'd heard the click of the camera during the time his façade had faded, knowing the entire thing had been catalogued. "Chat Noir is _Adrien Agreste_?" It was sickening, the smile imbedded in the man's face as he said as much, and far too loudly at that. "Supermodel Adrien Agreste? This is better than I thought it would be!" He was laughing now, Adrien growling quite like he was Chat despite no longer wearing the mask.

Protective and aware that Ladybug— _Marinette_ —was still behind him, her hand now clutching at the fabric of his shirt, he shifted her closer, until he was holding her to his back. Shielding her, maybe, in some kind of instinctual way that wouldn't actually accomplish anything.

"This really is _rich_!" The reporter went on, Adrien thankful the alley was far enough out of the way that the surrounding area was nearly deserted. "I mean, really, how did it feel?" He held up his camera and took another picture. "Being the one who, in a manner of speaking, put your own father in prison?"

Adrien wanted to kill him. Maybe he would. There was no reason he couldn't leave the corpse in the alley and destroy the evidence in the camera. No one would even think to suspect him.

"You got what you wanted," Adrien said darkly. "Now go." Maybe he'd take the camera anyway. No, what good would that do? The reporter knew who he was now anyway, would know how to get to him. Besides, most reporters with some semblance of intelligence—which this one had despite his insolence—had cameras with memories directly connected to some kind of digital cloud.

"Oh, no, no, no." The reporter was enjoying this far too much. "I've been tracking you two for _months_ , documenting your habits. While _your_ identity is quite a bit more interesting than I had anticipated, I can't leave here without Ladybug's."

He _had_ always gone after her first, hadn't he?

"You may have your proof of my identity, but I destroy that camera and you won't be able to get any on Ladybug, even if you do see her."

"A face is a powerful thing—I think you know that perfectly well. Even if you destroy my camera," he held it out as if it meant nothing, which only irked Adrien further, "I'll be able to find her. One way or another, I always get what I want."

"Be careful who you threaten," Adrien spat.

"Why? Would the hero Chat Noir really hurt me? Kind of goes against your M.O."

"I'm not sure you're someone I'd consider worth saving at this point."

"Now Adrien, don't sully your good reputation."

He growled.

The reporter snapped another picture.

"Adrien." She sounded so soft, so meek, behind him. He'd been about to pounce—though he knew he shouldn't—and her hand had tightened on his shirt when she'd felt his muscles coiling. She was stopping him. "Don't. It's- It's okay."

No, it wasn't. It was anything but okay. Yet, this was Ladybug. He wanted to protect her, wanted to make this whole thing go away, but he could tell by the tone of her voice that she'd accepted it. She was going to reveal herself.

Not that she had much choice, really.

"Marinette…" He murmured her name, saying it only loud enough for her to hear as he looked back at her again. She wouldn't meet his gaze, instead looking pointedly downward as her hand slipped from his shirt.

Without another word, she stepped out from behind him, Adrien's defensiveness seeping away as her actions left him helpless. She stood straight, chin held high, as she came up beside him. He could see the slight trembling in her hand, which she was holding behind her back, and could tell that her posture was tense. She didn't want to do this—was dreading it.

The camera snapped as soon as she was visible.

She flinched only slightly at the noise, but kept her eyes trained on the reporter.

"What's your name, missus?" he asked, his tone so disrespectful that Adrien was on the verge of lunging at him again.

"You got what you came for," she said coldly, Adrien twitching his attention back to her. Because she was Marinette, but what he heard was Ladybug's voice. Of course, it was the same voice, logically, but the inflection was completely Ladybug. "Now go."

Her threat, though not voiced explicitly, was clear. Worse, maybe, than his own. Because the listener couldn't tell what would befall them from her words. Only that something would, unless they rectified their actions.

The reporter's expression slowly dropped, Adrien not knowing what it was like to be on the other side of Ladybug's chilled stare, but having seen it on display a few times before. It was her last straw, her last warning. He had yet to witness the consequences of one who failed to heed it.

"Of course," the reporter said, tone slightly quieter. "Thank you." Bowing his head awkwardly, he began to back away, only daring to turn and run off once there was a considerable amount of distance between him and the heroes. When he was gone, it was a breezy silence that twisted between them—uncertain and turbulent.

Adrien wanted to say something, anything, but no words would come. Because Marinette, Ladybug, she wouldn't look at him. She was staring straight ahead, where the reporter had previously been standing, with an unreadable mask of an expression. The only way he could think to describe it was blank.

She was giving him nothing. He didn't know what it meant, what she wanted. And when she turned without a single look in his direction, he couldn't bring himself to call after her. She walked away, her footsteps the only sound on the deserted street aside from his heartbeat in his ears.


	2. Chapter 2

He didn't sleep that night. Couldn't. Not with what had happened weighing over his head. The hours ticked down as though each second was banging in his head, leaving him with a severe headache by the time five in the morning rolled around. He'd been pacing, laying in his bed, staring at the ceiling, staring out the window. Just _waiting_. It was inevitable, the truth getting out. The reporter wasn't going to be struck by a sudden conscious—he knew the press well enough to realize that. Rather, it was just a matter of waiting for the other shoe to drop.

He had his television on the news channel, muted so as to prevent any irrelevant noise. All his computer monitors were open to news websites, which he refreshed when the anxiety took over. Really, it wasn't the fact that it was going to happen that got to him so much as when, so he could be ready. So he could deal with it. But he couldn't deal with it if it hadn't happened yet and he preferred not to be caught off guard.

He wondered, fleetingly, if Marinette was going through the same thing in her bedroom above her parent's bakery. Had she told them, her parents? In preparation for this? Adrien didn't have anyone to tell. It was something the staff in the house would learn on their own. Aside from them, he had no one. His father was gone, so was Nathalie. He'd considered texting Nino, but every time he picked up his phone, he was at a loss for what to type.

Was something as simple as, "hey, just letting you know I'm Chat Noir, since the cat's out of the bag anyway" an okay thing to say? No, that just didn't seem appropriate, not for something like this. But that was all he could come up with, so he'd done nothing.

He wondered what would happen, how others would react. But, mostly, he thought of Marinette. And of his own loss.

There'd always been something freeing in Chat Noir, in having the secret identity all to himself. He wouldn't have minded sharing such a thing with Ladybug, had wanted to—if only because she was the only person in the entire world he felt actually understood. The fact that she was Marinette didn't change that. It didn't change anything. It was relieving, actually, that Ladybug wasn't someone like, say, Chloe. Marinette was sweet, kind, selfless. All the same things Ladybug was, just covered in more subdued wrapping.

But, even if Ladybug had eventually known who he was, he hadn't wanted the world to find out. Already he could feel everything closing in on him, his freedom shrinking away. He didn't live beneath the lording presence of his father anymore, but he was still Adrien Agreste. It was a name that would always hang over him, and now it'd hang over Chat too.

"Adrien." Plagg. He was floating over by the computer screens. He'd been generally quiet since the day before, only meekly asking for cheese. It seemed he wasn't entirely comfortable with the reveal either. Not that Adrien could blame him. One answer spurred people to want more. To understand. Neither Adrien nor Plagg were sure they wanted people to have any more understanding.

"What?" he said, sounding tired from where he was watching the sun rise outside the windows.

"It's here," was all Plagg had to say, Adrien blinking once before turning and heading over to his plethora of computer monitors. Sitting down in his rolling chair, he leaned forward to examine the report Plagg had found. It was a local station, not as well known as those on the television, but it'd be enough. The news would break. Everyone would know.

It was a video, a young man dressed with purposeful unprofessionalism sitting behind a desk. Taking a deep breath, Adrien found his mouse and hit play.

"And now, something none of you are going to believe," the young man started, Adrien twining his fingers under his chin as he watched. "For two years now, Paris has been policed of the supernatural by two vigilante heroes—Ladybug and Chat Noir." An older image of them waving at the camera showed up to the anchor's left. "Their identities have been hidden from us, but some believe that it's time the two come clean. Well, this is it. This is the moment. We have their identities.

"We're not the kind of news station to yank your chain, so we're not going to drag out the news. But, we assure you, you're going to be surprised. I think we've all had our own ideas about the sort of people that would be behind the masks, but I don't think any of us really considered that they'd be as young as high school students. Yet, we have the proof. Not only are Paris' beloveds teenagers, but one of them, Chat Noir," a close up of his alter ego replaced the previous image, "is none other than famous model _Adrien Agreste_."

One of his model headshots showed up beside the Chat image.

"Don't believe me? Well, we have the proof." The young man leaned forward. "We have pictures of him transforming from Chat Noir _into_ Adrien Agreste." A series of images were displayed, all of them from the day before, when he'd been snarling at the reporter while his transformation vanished. "I know, some of you are going to assume these photos are fake, but I assure you, they're one-hundred percent genuine. Paris' favorite pretty boy is the bad boy, Chat Noir. I know. I was kind of disappointed too."

Adrien sighed and shook his head, closing his eyes.

"But what about Ladybug?" the news anchor continued, which drew Adrien's attention again. "We don't have footage of her changing from Ladybug, but she was there, and we _have_ managed to identify her. She attends the same local school as Adrien Agreste. In fact, they're in the _same class_. Our sources have identified her as Marinette Dupain-Cheng, daughter of two local bakers." The image taken the day before, of Marinette with her chilled gaze on the camera, took up the space beside the reporter's head. Adrien was clearly standing in the background, watching her. "Turns out Ladybug is nothing more than an average high school girl. Who'd have thought?"

Adrien could feel his blood boiling. Marinette was anything _but_ average. She was incredible and listening to such an evaluation was like bearing witness to some kind of slanderous claim. They could say whatever they wanted about him, he was used to his name being dragged through the mud—it came with being an Agreste. But no one had the right to do that to Marinette. She hadn't asked for this. All she'd ever done was protect the city, yet here they were.

He knew there was no saving it. The press never went easy. No, this wasn't going to end pretty. Not for him or Marinette. And that only made him feel worse.

He'd stopped paying attention to the report, instead turning some in his seat as he simmered.

Plagg flitted down in front of him. "All the other news agencies will jump on this as soon as they see it," he said, tone somewhat short. "It'll be everywhere."

"I know," Adrien muttered.

"I've seen the way those reporters and photographers mob you at those fashion shows," he went on. "Is this going to be like that too?"

"Probably," Adrien verified, sitting back with a sigh. "Worse, maybe."

"Are they going to find out about me and Tikki?" He asked with an almost accusing tone, but Adrien didn't let it bother him.

"No. They may know who we are, but that's where it ends. I won't let it go any further." It was no one else's concern how or why they did what they did. They'd been chosen and Adrien had no intention of subjecting Tikki or Plagg to any sort of research or experimentation.

"How are you going to do that?"

Adrien cocked an eyebrow at him, but didn't answer. Rather, his attention was caught by his phone, which had started buzzing atop his computer desk. Swiveling toward it, he glanced down at the screen. He was not surprised to see that it was Nino calling him.

He decided not to answer.

A voice mail was left shortly after, before a series of texts from his best friend started flowing in. Texts from Alya too, as if they were, perhaps, discussing what had been discovered between each other.

Nino called twice more, but Adrien let it go to voicemail each time. Shortly after, Chloe was calling him as well, so he definitely let that one go. She started rapid texting him too, until his phone was blowing up with texts from everyone in his class. And then from models he knew, and reporters he was familiar with. It was going off the hook, but none of the messages or calls—not a single one—were from Marinette.

He turned off his phone. Everyone calling him would be sent straight to voicemail now and they'd know he was ignoring them.

"It's happening," Plagg said from his position crouched at the base of the window. Because, at this rate, someone might see him floating in front of it. "There are people pulling up outside your house."

Going to the window, Adrien glanced down from his position on the top floor, out past the front gate. Plagg was right. Cars were pulling up at a trickling rate, most of them plastered with the logos of new agencies. They wouldn't dare force their way through the metal gate, but they wouldn't leave it either. Not until he came out.

"It's alright, Plagg," Adrien assured, somewhat eased by the fact that things were basically unfolding as he'd predicted they would. Now that it was starting, he felt more in control. He could deal with this. He wasn't left guessing.

Fame, scandal, attention—these were subjects he had more than enough experience with.

"What about Ladybug?" Plagg asked.

Marinette, on the other hand, did not.

"I'm working on it," he replied, honest even if he wasn't sure what, exactly, he was working on. Now that the news was out, he needed to talk to her. There was no getting around it—even if, for whatever reason, she didn't want to speak with him. He'd been reflecting on his limited time spent with Marinette. Nino and Alya had been dating, officially, for almost a year now. Which meant that he and Marinette had ended up hanging out together occasionally. But they weren't close—not as civilians. She'd had a stuttering problem around him for a while, but that seemed to have gradually gone away. Still, she was never very interested in making conversation with him and seemed to avoid looking at him as much as possible.

Much like she had the day before.

Part of him, which he'd trapped away if only for his sanity, feared that she didn't like him. He couldn't say why this would be, as she'd always been nice when they _were_ together, but she wasn't nearly as approachable with him as Marinette as she was while being Ladybug, now that he had the comparison available to him.

No, he needed to not be worrying about that. On that particular morning, it didn't matter how she felt about Adrien Agreste. This was about Ladybug and Chat Noir, which meant they needed some kind of communication.

"Will there be this many reporters outside the bakery too?" Plagg asked, still being sure to stay out of the view of the windows. Who knew how high tech some of the cameras those photographers had could be.

"I don't know," Adrien said with a sigh.

"Well, what _do_ you know?" Plagg hissed. "Sounds like you're-"

A knock on Adrien's bedroom door made him jump. "Yes?"

"Sir." The stiff, deep voice was familiar, Adrien walking swiftly over before pulling the door open. There, in his typical suit, was his driver. The same driver and bodyguard he'd had all his life. They rarely ever said two words to one another and the man had certainly never visited Adrien's room despite living in the house. But perhaps the whole morning was going to be one of oddities.

"Maurice," Adrien said after a moment. "What is it?"

"There are at least a dozen cars gathered outside the front gate," he explained, tone stiff. "It will be impossible to pull the car around to take you to school. How would you like me to proceed?"

Adrien blinked for a moment, trying to comprehend. School. He had school. It was like he'd totally forgot. But maybe a sense of normalcy was what he needed. He couldn't run from this and avoiding it would only make the fact of it worse. He'd learned that the best way to deal with "negative" attention was to deal with it head on. And to go about his life as though nothing had changed.

"They can't legally park in the street," he said, knowing that Maurice was there about more than just the reporters. He was Chat Noir. And Adrien Agreste, owner of the mansion and successor of all his father's wealth, if not the company that had gotten it in the first place. Maurice was there to do whatever Adrien needed him to do, Chat Noir or not. There was a reason he was so large and muscular, after all. "Wait until I'm headed out to pull up. Hopefully I'll be able to duck inside without them completely mobbing everything."

"You are not requiring me to escort you to the car through the crowd?"

Adrien cocked an eyebrow. "While I appreciate the sentiment, Maurice, I think we both know at this point that I can take care of myself." He _was_ Chat Noir, wasn't he?

Maurice nodded once. "Of course, Sir. I'll have the car waiting as requested."

"Also," Adrien tapped his chin thoughtfully, "I need access to the resumes of your most highly skilled colleagues. As soon as you can manage it, if possible."

"Of course." Maurice, taking that final word as his dismissal, bowed his head and closed the door. Adrien stood silently in his bedroom for a few seconds afterward, before nodding to himself and going to his desk. Sitting down, he grabbed his phone and turned it back on. Silencing all the messages continually flowing in, he did a quick internet search for the number he wanted before making the call.

It was answered swiftly. "Paris Police Prefecture. What can I do for you?"

"Good morning," Adrien said formally, swiveling some in his chair. "This is Adrien Agreste and I'd like to speak with whoever is in charge of Public Security."

"Uh, o-of course, Mr. Agreste," the woman stuttered. "I'll transfer you right away." He didn't say anything and instead waited to be connected. It was only moments before a man, who sounded somewhat out of breath, picked up the line.

"Mr. Agreste?"

"Yes."

"I'm Officer Baudin. What can we help you with?"

Adrien silently sighed. "I'm sure you've all heard the news by now."

"We have."

"I want at least two officers posted outside the Dupain-Cheng Bakery at all times, surveying the property and the parents of Marinette Dupain-Cheng. It won't be permanent surveillance, but it's not a matter that should be taken lightly until other arrangements can be made."

"We were already considering it, Sir."

"Good. I'll give you my personal number." He relayed it. "If there are any disturbances, I want a direct call. That includes anything from civilian disturbances to akuma. However, careful precautions should be taken to make sure business and privacy at the bakery is not disrupted. I doubt much can be done about the situation at present, but your officers should be able to make educated judgements in how to handle things."

"We'll put our best officers on the job."

"Thank you."

"What about Lad- What about Miss Marinette? And yourself?"

Adrien almost chuckled. "I think Marinette and I are more than capable of handling things for ourselves."

"R-right, of course. We're readying the surveillance team as we speak."

"I'm glad to hear it." The conversation ended shortly after, Adrien remaining in his chair for a few moments longer, before getting to his feet and going to his bathroom. Showering, he went through his daily routine, ready an hour before school as he picked up his bag from beside his desk.

Calling Plagg, he zipped it closed before he headed out the bedroom door. As always, the house was eerily still, a fact he'd grown accustomed to years ago. Heading down to the front door, he closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths to gather himself, before pushing his way out into the morning sunlight.

The flashing and snapping of cameras was expected, as well as the bombardment of questions being shouted at him through the gates. He ignored it, doing his best to remain relaxed as he closed the front door behind him. It locked on its own, leaving him to make his way down the stairs and through the courtyard.

He had a keycard with a chip that, when he flashed it before the gates, opened them automatically. The motion seemed to startle some of the reporters, who backed away in surprise as the metal bars began to swing apart. None of them dared mob him on his private property, but the shouting only got louder as he hunkered forward.

There was no choice but to enter the mob, Adrien looking ahead as cameras and mics were shoved in his face. He did his very best to drown out the questions, but they were bouncing around like springs, unable to be completely ignored.

"Mr. Agreste, is it true that you're Chat Noir?"

"Did you permit your identity to be released?"

"Have you spoken to Ladybug since the news broke?"

"Did you know who Ladybug was prior to this event?"

"How did you become a vigilante in the first place?"

Reporters were well-versed in what was allowed and what wasn't. Though the questions grated on his nerves, Adrien pushed forward, the crowd slowly parting as he made his way to his car.

"Why have you and Ladybug kept your identities from the public so long?"

"Will you be holding an official press conference for questions?"

"Why did you keep this a secret during Hawkmoth's trial?"

"Does this make your testimony biased?"

Adrien ground his teeth together, finally reaching the car. Slipping his fingers up under the handle, he pulled the door open.

"Was Hawkmoth aware of your identity?"

"Do you sympathize with Hawkmoth's motives?"

"How does it feel to have put your own father in prison?"

He shouldn't give in—he was better than that. But that last question stung, the situation with Hawkmoth still so raw that he couldn't help whipping around with an angry glare, despite how unadvised he knew doing so was.

"My relationship with my father is not a topic that's up for discussion," he snapped, that he'd replied at all silencing the reporters for just a few seconds, which was long enough for him to duck into the car and close the door.

The cameras started flashing again a second later, voices bombarding the car like rocks denting metal. But they were easier to ignore, sealed away as they were, and Adrien took a few deep breaths to gather his composure before turning his attention to Maurice.

"Take me to the Dupain-Cheng bakery, please," he said, clearing his throat when his voice came out a little weaker than he'd intended.

"Of course." Despite the crowd, the car was pulled ahead, the reporters getting out of the way. Most of them were scrambling back to their cars, no doubt ready to pursue him to school. After all, the drive was hardly more than a minute, so it wasn't as though he'd be able to lose them somewhere along the way.

Still, the car was a preferable shield to nothing as they headed down the road. They made the single turn that would lead them up to the school, Adrien's heart dropping further than it already had at the sight of the news vans and reporters swarming the bakery.

Asking Maurice to pull discreetly up along the curb, he watched through the tinted windows as the reporters clustered together near the door. He had only moments to decide what to do, as the reporters trailing him would make his presence known soon enough.

And so, Marinette in his thoughts, he braced himself before pushing his way out of the car. Maurice looked as though he'd follow, but Adrien waved him down.

Grasping at his backpack strap, he quickly crossed the street just as the reporters from his house began clamoring out of their vehicles. The fell and tumbled to the road like half-dead flies, zeroing in on him and shouting more questions. Which, of course, drew the attention of the others loitering outside the bakery.

Two cop cars had pulled up along the road as well, but Adrien ignored them.

There were so many voices now that he couldn't understand anything hollered his way, which was, perhaps, more of a blessing than not. Shielding his face from the flashing cameras, he shoved his way to the front of the bakery, not surprised to note that it was still closed.

Tom was inside, however, and spotted him through the glass. Though he didn't look pleased, he hastily made his way over, unlocking the door and opening it just far enough to let Adrien slip through.

He slammed it, and the voices, out a second later, quickly locking the store back up again.

With a sigh, he watched the reporters for a moment longer before turning away.

Shoulders slumped, Adrien twitched his gaze from Marinette's father to the floor, to his own feet, to the reporters, and back again. He wasn't sure what to say, or even what he was doing there. But it'd seemed like the right thing to do.

"Sorry…" he eventually settled for muttering out.

"Don't apologize," Tom issued, tone somewhat cold. "This isn't your fault." It was clear he was already fed up with the situation and it'd only been a few hours since the news had broken. "You're here to see Marinette?"

"Uh, yeah, I… I guess." Adrien huffed, before forcing himself to hold Tom's gaze. "I'm not really sure why I'm here, actually." It was a lot easier to give the police orders and deal with that which was "official." But he hardly had any idea about how he should approach Marinette.

That was his father's influence, he supposed. Knowledge of the professional, but ignorant of the personal.

"It's alright," Tom assured, laying a heavy hand on Adrien's shoulder. "Let's head through the back door for some privacy."

Adrien merely nodded in agreement.

Herded by Tom across the store and through the door to the back, Adrien let out a relieved breath once the prying eyes of the media were finally blocked. Tom seemed relatively thankful to be out of the spotlight as well, the silence of the corridor much preferred.

They were quiet for a moment, Adrien fidgeting as Tom looked him over.

"I suppose it makes sense," the larger man eventually said. "Certainly explains why Marinette loves to talk about you so much."

Adrien furrowed his brows curiously. "What do you mean?" Did she talk about Chat Noir to her parents? The idea didn't make much sense to him, as she'd always been so adamant about their identities. He would have assumed she never spoke of him at all. Not willingly, anyway.

"Well, you two just know one another a lot better than Sabine and I thought you did."

Adrien was still confused. "I… guess. But… Marinette and I didn't know…" He looked to the side. "We just found out yesterday who we both were. Our identities, I mean."

This visibly surprised Tom. "Oh. We thought… Huh."

"Did Marinette not mention that part?" he asked quietly.

"She hasn't really… said a whole lot of anything on the situation." Reaching up, Tom massaged the bridge of his nose in frustration. "She told us yesterday what happened, but, other than that, we can't get her to say anything. We didn't even know you were Chat Noir until we saw the news this morning."

"She's not taking it well, then…"

"I don't know what she's thinking," Tom admitted. "Sabine and I had always thought… It's a little difficult to imagine that our daughter had an entirely different life outside what we knew. I honestly don't know what's going through her head."

Adrien listened quietly, the strain in Tom's voice perfectly clear. He understood what the man was going through, to a certain extent. It was shocking, finding out that one of your family members was something you'd never imagined they could be. He'd long since grown apart from his father, but still, that Gabriel turned out to be Hawkmoth had been a truth he'd struggled to accept. Still did. It was better, probably, that Marinette was a hero, but that didn't erase the distance her job created.

Finding out Gabriel was Hawkmoth had made it clear just how much of a stranger his father had been—a struggle Marinette's family had to now grapple with as well.

"I suppose she hasn't said anything about talking to me, then?" he asked.

Tom shook his head. "She hasn't said a word about anything."

Adrien sighed.

"Sabine and I were wondering if she was in shock," Tom confessed. "Perhaps… perhaps seeing you would help. You two _are_ close, aren't you?"

"I… like to think so." She'd once said he was her best friend. They were partners. Certainly that had to count for something.

"Come upstairs, then," Tom said. "Last I checked, she was in the living room."

Nodding, Adrien slowly followed, his focus on the blue carpet draped over the steps. His heart was picking up speed, until it was racing. His skin felt cold and clammy.

He'd just been speaking with Ladybug's father. He was in Ladybug's house. Of course, he'd talked with Tom and Sabine before. He'd been in Ladybug's _room_. But it seemed so surreal in those moments. So new and… strange.

He'd assumed that, at some point, he'd know Ladybug's identity. They'd reveal themselves, be it on purpose or by accident. But he'd never imagined it'd be like this. There was so much pressure and, though his steps were slow, the world felt like it was racing. What would he even say to her? Furthermore, what would they do? The press, the rest of Paris, it wasn't simply going to go away.

There was so much ahead of them that Adrien couldn't fathom or predict. He could act some, but the waters beyond were still foreign.

They'd have been so much better off—so much stronger—if they'd known about each other before. Together, they could have taken on anything. But it didn't feel like they were one force in those moments. No, everything felt completely and totally broken. And he feared, in the chaos of everything surging up around them, the pieces would be lost before they could put them back into place.

If that was possible at all.

Reaching the top of the stairs, Tom held open the door that led to their living quarters, gesturing Adrien in ahead of him. Uneasy, Adrien continued to grip the strap of his bag with white-knuckled force, gaze darting around the open layout of the house until it snagged almost violently on the small shape curled up on the couch.

She was facing the window, profile unreadable as she stared blankly out into the early morning.

Upon their entrance, Sabine came around the corner of the kitchen, a dish towel in her hands. "Tom- Oh…" She blinked in surprise, looking Adrien up and down as he awkwardly waved. Her staring didn't last long, expression turning sympathetic. Which, Adrien supposed, he'd have to get used to. Not only was the cat out of the bag, but it'd come bursting out holding a moth in its mouth.

"Hello, honey," she said gently, setting her towel aside as she came up fully. "Are you doing okay?"

"Uh, y-yeah, I'm fine." He did his best to force out a small smile, before looking over Sabine's shoulder at Marinette. "Um…"

Sabine sighed, glancing back as well. "She hasn't said anything all morning. And we…" She shared a look with her husband. "We don't know what to say to her. This is new territory."

Adrien nodded in agreement, knowing that even his experience with fame wouldn't compare.

Taking a deep breath, he took Sabine and Tom's silence as permission enough. Setting his bag on the bar as he passed by, he quietly rounded the end of the sectional, pausing just before he reached Marinette.

She was in what looked like a simple pair of pink pajama pants and a tank top. Her hair was down, gathering around her neck, and she was curled up with a pillow held in her lap. For a moment, he hesitated, having no idea what he was going to say. But, ultimately, he couldn't let her down.

This was Ladybug. He had to be there for her, no matter the circumstances.

Swallowing hard, he gathered his courage and pushed his feet the rest of the way. Rounding the table, he took a gentle seat to her left, watching as she finally flicked her attention to him.

All the color drained from her face at the sight of him, blue eyes going wide. For some moments, she just stared. Adrien was so tense he was barely breathing, their shared gaze both familiar and foreign.

Of course, he'd been around Marinette plenty of times before, but this was so, so different. She wasn't just Marinette or Ladybug—she was something else entirely, just like he was. His best friend and also a complete stranger.

Yet, no matter the circumstances, they were still partners. He refused to let any situation—no matter how difficult—wash that away.

"Hey," he murmured. Her breath shook at the word, as if she'd been surprised he could speak at all. He was too, were he being honest. What could he even say to her?

Maybe, above all other moments, this was the one where the truth was the best method.

"I don't… I don't really know what to say," he admitted. "This isn't… how I thought this would happen." Looking down at the couch, he fiddled with a nick in the fabric. Despite his efforts, however, Marinette didn't respond. Which pulled his gaze her way again.

Her eyes were downcast, expression so sad that it nearly broke Adrien's heart.

"My Lady…" he whispered.

He wasn't sure if it was his desperation or that he'd used the familiar endearment, but it broke what little composure she'd had. Lips and chin trembling, she balled her hands into fists around the pillow in her lap, two tears streaking suddenly down her cheeks.

"Hey, hey, don't cry," he cooed, scooting closer. His thigh brushed her folded knees, any hesitation gone as he reached up and gently cradled her cheeks. Though they kept coming, he tried to wipe her tears away with his thumbs. "Please don't cry, Bugaboo. Please."

He didn't know what to do—with their situation, with her tears. He was so helpless.

And, all the while, she broke down further, teeth gritting as she sniffed and trembled. He thought she was going to shy away from him, her hands coming up as though she might push him away. But, as if she simply didn't have the strength, she gripped at his shirt-sleeves, holding them for only a second before her body fell toward him.

Gathering her in his arms, he pulled her against him. Leaning his cheek on her hair, he held her tighter as she burrowed into his chest. She clutched the front of his shirt and sobbed, which only hammered at Adrien's own defenses.

"Chat…" she cried.

Which, of course, broke him too.

Holding her as tightly as he could, he turned his nose into her hair, his own chest quaking. The tears assaulted him too, like physical grief leaking out between them.

They both knew that what they'd had before was lost—ripped violently out from under them. There was no going back, no salvaging to be had.

Just like when Adrien had lost mother, when he'd lost his father, he'd lost this too. The one place he'd felt safe. Where no one held any power over him.

His freedom.

She was losing it too. The whole world felt like it was crowding in on them.

And there was nothing— _nothing_ —they could do to stop it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is all there is of this fic for now. Don't know that I'll write anymore *shrugs*

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! Leave reviews if you can and feel free to follow me on tumblr - SKayLanphear


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